


Coming Out is Hard

by jewboykahl



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Gender Dysphoria, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Kenny McCormick, M/M, My baby!!, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl
Summary: Kenny McCormick is having a gender identity crisis, and decides a Halloween Party with all of their friends is as good a time as any to come out to Stan Marsh.
Relationships: Stan Marsh/Kenny McCormick
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	Coming Out is Hard

**Author's Note:**

> okkk so. this story is extremely personal as I am genderfluid and this is hugely based off of my own experiences and dysphoria- so I apologize if another gnc person reads this and finds it unrealistic or not how they experience gender etc, but it's just my own personal take essentially!  
> as always, however, if there is anything problematic let me know and i will change it, as i know even as a gnc person i am not the expert!!  
> also huge shout out to the love and support from Tweekscoffeebean to create this story, to ghostlikemanner for sharing some amazing gnc kenny headcanons with me, and to thelotusflower for helping my braindead ass come up with the title!!  
> also- halfway through, i switch which pronouns i use to narrate kenny just kinda to explain how it feels to be gnc sometimes so i hope that isnt super confusing  
> thank you so much for coming to my stenny talk and i hope u enjoy!

Eyelash extensions weigh her eyelids down, giving her surroundings a squinted filter. She had not anticipated the amount of effort opening her eyes would be after the eyeshadow, liquid liner, and glue had been applied gently and meticulously. Once her sight adjusts, she can see the beautiful, equally made-up Bebe grinning at her.

“You ready to see it, Princess?” She quips, gripping either side of the office chair she had been sitting in.

Kenny nods, allowing herself to be spun. The mirror in front of her reflects an impressive, intricate make over. The cut-crease styled powder blue and yellow-green eyeshadow accenting the honey brown in her eyes, the winged eyeliner accentuating the almond shape, still wet. Her fake eyelashes go on for miles, and the careful contour job hides her field of freckles and grants a femininity to her features. She could cry, but she doesn’t want to destroy Bebe’s masterpiece.

“Wow,” Kenny laughs, lifting an eyebrow, also slightly heavy with pomade. “We look fuckin’ hot.”

Bebe sizes her up and winks jokingly, “I’d fuck you, but I don’t want your big, buff quarterback boyfriend to beat me up.”

Snorting, Kenny stands to her feat, “You could take ‘em. Though, I can attest to how strong his arms are. At least, in terms of endurance.”

“Okay, stop,” Bebe waves her hands, laughing despite herself.

Kenny’s mind becomes consumed with thoughts of Stan. She wants to smile, but nerves cut off the reaction at a tense half-frown. Her boyfriend has seen her completely made up before and has never been weird or rude about it. He thought it was funny, and kissed her equally passionately, with or without lipstick.

The thing is, she doesn’t want it to be _funny_.

Kenny supposes she brought it upon herself, continuously agreeing to be Bebe’s cosmetology guinea pig. More often than not, she really didn’t mind, and hardly ever took herself seriously. Experimenting with breaking binary expectations is fun and can and should be done with frivolity. She almost always has her nails painted various shades, something she had let her little sister do for her since she was ten.

There are just times, however, that she doesn’t want to be denied or laughed at for putting on makeup or a crop top. Sometimes it’s difficult to be referred to a Stan’s _boy_ friend. Though she loves being with him, the title occasionally does not _fit_ her.

This is something nobody knows about Kenny. Most people assume she is just flamboyantly gay—but that isn’t the true explanation for the random intervals of her life that she demanded or requested her friends to refer to her as a female. The most memorable was a multi-month period where she was able to convince their whole town to refer to her as _Princess Kenny_ , ‘she’ pronouns included. Though it was only for a game that the neighborhood kids were playing together (some strange hybrid reenactment of _Lord of the Rings_ and _Game of Thrones_ ), she could not recall a time she felt happier to be herself. Kenny was never one to thrust herself into the spotlight, but she decided to become a major player in the game, just to hear people call her _Milady_ and say _her’s_. Even her immediate family went in on it; her little sister repeatedly referred to her as “the most beautiful Princess in the world”.

Most important, her crush, Stan, was on her side, and called her all of these things also. Even when nobody was looking.

“You ready for the wig, honey?”

Kenny’s thoughts come to a screeching halt when she recalls that outrageous, ginger wig she agreed to wear for the themed costume between Bebe and their other friend Wendy. Forcing an artificial version of her signature, lazy smile, she nods and allows Bebe to go to work, completing her Winifred Sanderson costume. Bebe was already clad in the elegant throws of her Sarah Sanderson costume.

“Wendy’ll be here soon,” Kenny announces after receiving a rushed update that just read _Coming_ from the final member of the trio.

“Perfect,” Bebe replies, continuing to fit and adjust the hairpiece. “Alright, you are done!”

Again, Kenny scrutinizes herself in the mirror. This time she is less pleased with her feminine appearance. Especially so when Bebe poses the inquiry, “Do you have the teeth?”

Holding back a sigh, Kenny reaches into the pocket of her jean jacket that she had set on the ground earlier and procures novelty, rubber bucked teeth. She inserts it into her mouth, then turns to her friend, doing her best impression of the scrunched-up expression the witch from _Hocus Pocus_ always seemed to have.

Bebe barks a laugh, making Kenny immensely jealous that she was able to look flawless and busty while she appeared flat-chested and like a giant, walking joke.

“You okay, Ken?” Her blonde friend questions. She realizes she had let her face fall, the burning in her chest revealing itself.

“Sorry, just a little outta it.” Kenny assures her, quickly recovering.

Bebe hums, “Why don’t you lay down until the party, then? Or, at least until you feel better.”

She remains totally out of it, even when Wendy storms in with gossip to share. Nothing makes her feel better about looking like a shocking drag queen, knowing she’ll be the center of attention at Token’s Halloween party with this _hilarious_ escape. Not even the thought of Stan getting out of football practice shortly makes her feel better.

__

“Stan, what the fuck?” Clyde groans when he sees his costume, “How many times are you and your secondary boyfriend going to be Mario and Luigi?”

Kenny sits in the space between Stan’s legs, playing a card game with Bernie Sanders, a bumble bee, and a zombie (also known as Tweek, Craig, and Token). Thank god for Tweek’s politically charged parody costume, equipped with a wig, glasses, and a fake bird glued to his blazer’s shoulder taking some of the attention from her own costume. An hour into the party, most people are intoxicated, including Wendy and Bebe, thus giving her the liberty to remove her heavy, red wig. She felt vaguely better about herself. Especially when she focused on Stan’s fingers absentmindedly twirling the loose, blonde curls on the back of her head.

“Until they don’t fit anymore, probably,” Stan’s laugh shakes his thighs, and thus Kenny’s body. She grins as she continues to try and strategize a way to defeat Tweek and Token in _Euchre_. Craig is a blessing and a curse to have as a partner; while his lack of poker face keeps their opponents on their toes, obtaining no cues whatsoever of whether or not she should pick up a suite is pretty unhelpful.

Clyde lets out a chuckle, claiming the vacant recliner beside the group. “At least you don’t look as lame as Craig.”

Kenny’s partner shoots his friend a glare, defending his lazy, bee antenna headband and black and yellow sweater (that definitely belongs to his boyfriend, Tweek, considering how tightly it fit) ensemble. “Fuck off, Clyde, I look hot.”

Tweek grants Clyde some back up, “He was _supposed_ to be AOC, but he waited too long to get his costume.”

Craig shrugs, “Maybe I just didn’t want to dress up like a woman.”

“She’s not just _any_ woman, Craig!”

“Whatever,” Craig snorts at his boyfriend’s needlessly impassioned response, “We can’t all be as brave as Kenny.”

The undead-costumed host of the party smirks at this, shuffling the deck, “Is your closet just full of an assortment of dresses and panty-hose at this point, Kenny?”

Kenny’s stare lingers up to the group, all laughing at her proclivity for dressing eccentrically feminine for Halloween. She forces a chuckle, accepting the pile of cards for her hand, “More or less.”

Clyde, who is dressed as Tom Cruise’s character from _Top Gun,_ defends, “At least he’s fucking creative!”

“And looks fucking hot in everything,” Stan adds, leaning over to meet her face. Kenny turns her head, accepting a sweet kiss on the lips from her boyfriend, his fake mustache tickling her nose.

“This is why we’re gonna win, Tweekers,” Token declares, “Those gays are way more prone to distracting PDA than you two.”

Tweek and Craig both look like they want to argue but accept the truth of the accusation. Kenny thinks the actual reason for her team losing is the sickening feeling rising in the bottom of her stomach.

Unsurprisingly, Token and Tweek are victorious. After the game is over, most members of the congregation migrate into kitchen area to join the pseudo-rave going on. Loud Halloween themed music pumps through an Alexa speaker and the lights are dimmed. It isn’t unusual for Stan and Kenny to hang back from a crowd at these parties, as Stan is still recovering from his alcohol addiction, and does his best to stay away from his vice. Kenny is grateful that she does not have to unenthusiastically pump her fist to the _Ghost Busters_ theme song to maintain her unbothered façade.

“Hey, come sit up here with me,” Stan invites her to occupy the space beside him on the sofa. With a grunt, she stands, wobbling when she steps on the hem of her dress. She plops down onto the premium leather cushion and into Stan’s embrace. She lays he head against his shoulder, grinning at the kiss he plants on her forehead.

“Is everything okay?”

The question alone makes her stomach churn. Although she’s had plenty of practice with her fake smile, she’s terrified Stan will continue to see through her. They have spent too much time talking and staring at one another over the years _not_ to notice the change in her demeanor.

“Yeah. I’m kinda outta it today, but that’s it.”

Stan’s frown remains, “You sure? You’ve been sort of off all week.”

Kenny is surprised by this. She knew she was acting out of the ordinary that day, but that _week_? Eyebrows scrunched, she peers away, thinking hard about this.

It had been about a week since she began experiencing feelings of femininity. Since _he_ and _boyfriend_ and _him_ began to make her wince. Her stomach ties in knots—is she really that obvious? Does Stan already know and he’s just trying to get it out of her?

“I need a cig,” Kenny verbalizes the sudden realization. She leaves Stan on the couch, confused and worried.

The air is bitterly cold, typical of a South Park October. Kenny reaches into the breast padding on her dress, procuring he pack of Marlboro reds. Her fingers tremble as she tugs the short, blue lighter from the half-empty pack. Though it seems ironic, inhaling the musky smoke allows her to catch her breath.

Kenny is half-way through obtaining her nicotine fix, Stan seats himself beside her on the concrete steps before the front door. He rests his forearms on his knees, watching her fill her lungs and expel white smoke for a few moments before speaking.

“Did you take pictures before you took off your wig?”

She scoffs, smirks, flicking ash onto a partially decayed jack-o-lantern. “You know Bebe can’t miss a photo op. Especially since she got verified on Instagram.”

Stan chuckles. When Kenny glances to her side, his sapphire eyes are fixed up at the blueish glow of the full moon. A group of shadowy clouds impeded the light, creating a perfect ambiance for the holiday. Stan’s red felt cap is lopsided, and he’s elected to keep his costumed white gloves on. Kenny mumbles, “You look like your dad with that mustache.”

“Alright,” Stan sighs, immediately ripping the faux facial hair from above his lip, making his partner laugh aloud beside him. He grins, “That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh in a while.”

Kenny’s smile faulters. “I’m sorry.”

Stan reaches out to cup her chin with his index finger and thumb. Kenny’s heart flutters at the feeling of his fingers and the closeness of his handsome face. She has always thought he was the most attractive person in their town (and probably the world).Stan’s features are soft and sweet; he has the biggest blue eye Kenny’s ever seen, a small, button nose, and plump, pink lips. His eyebrows are thick and dark, exaggerating every expression he makes—including the very obviously anxious one he currently wears. “You don’t have to apologize, babe. I just miss it. It’s my favorite sound.”

“Well, I miss _my_ favorite sound,” Kenny quips suggestively before bringing Stan in for a passionate kiss.

They term of endearment lasts a few moments, before Stan withdraws and leaves their noses pressed together, and his fingertips on Kenny’s jaw. His voice falls to a whisper, “I’m just worried about you, Ken.”

Exhaling deeply, she withdraws from his presence. She worries her bottom lip between her gapped two-front teeth. She is grateful for the few minutes of silence Stan grants her to collect her thoughts. “I just… feel really weird right now.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, I just…” She pauses, casting her worried brown stare back to the face that she adores. “I don’t… like wearing this costume.”

Stan’s frown deepens, “How come? You love dressing up,”

“Yeah, I know,” Kenny snaps, instantly regretting her tone. She clears her throat, playing it off, “I just don’t like people making a joke outta me lookin’ like a… like, feminine.”

Her boyfriend turns his body to better face her, encouraging her to continue. She does so slowly, “I mean, it’s a lot of fun to do these costumes, and most of the time it really doesn’t bother me that everyone just thinks I’m hilarious for puttin’ on make-up. It’s just… sometimes… maybe _all_ the time, it’s not a joke… To me,”

Stan waits a moment to respond, digesting this revelation. When he’s positive Kenny’s finished, he replies, “So, you just like, enjoy doing drag?”

“That isn’t really it,” Kenny shakes her head, suddenly feeling extremely stupid for bringing it up, and for wearing what she’s wearing. She wishes she could have this conversation in jeans in a t-shirt.

“What is it, then, babe?” Stan presses gently. He’s rubbing the small of her back, somewhat soothing her, “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” she promises with a grin. “It’s just hard to explain.”

“Is it that you… feel like a girl?” Stan guesses, striking very near to her heart.

Kenny freezes. She stares ahead as he eyes begin to water. She can’t respond. She’s so close to finally relaying her long-repressed identity struggles. It’s too much.

“Are you—Do you think you’re, like, transgender?”

“No,” she immediately disagrees, wetting her lips. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you are, just please know that you have my full support, okay? I love you no matter what.”

Recalling Stan’s bisexuality, she is reassured at the truth in that statement. It empowers her to explain, “It’s more like… Sometimes I feel like a girl. Most of the time, I don’t feel like anything… Like, I’m just a person. I don’t even think about my gender or what I must look like to other people. But there’s just certain times where I’m like _fuck yeah, I’m a dude_ , or like… _fuck yeah, I’m a girl_ … I don’t know, does that make any sense?”

Stan thinks for a moment, “Isn’t that, like… non-binary?”

Kenny shrugs, “I have no idea… I haven’t really looked into any of this stuff… This is the only time I’ve ever talked about it.”

After granting Kenny a soft smile, Stan’s eyes begin to widen with realization. “Wait, so—Princess Kenny?”

She can’t help but laugh a little, “Yep. I was being totally fuckin’ serious about that.”

“Jesus, I had no clue, Ken,” he winces, pauses, “Sorry… Do you want me to call you something else right now?”

She shakes her head, “No, no, it’s fine, baby. Kenny’s fine. I don’t think I wanna change what people call me… It’s just kinda hard to ignore these feelings, y’know? Sorry to spring it all on you, it must be weird,”

“It’s not weird at all! I knew something was off with you and I wanted to know, so, I’m actually kind of pleasantly surprised it isn’t something more serious. Not—Not that this isn’t _serious_ , but, you know what I mean. I definitely am taking this seriously,”

Kenny nods, “I know, Stanley. Thank you.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence that passes between them, broken by Stan when he reaches over to grasp her cold hand in his glove-clad one. She hadn’t even realized how freezing it is until the warmth of his touch made the contrast obvious. “We should go in.”

“Okay,” Stan agrees, “but first… Are you sure there isn’t anything else you want me to call you? At least… I mean, are you feeling like a girl right now?”

Kenny wishes each inquiry did not make her heart slam against her ribcage with fear. Perhaps the blows are less significant, and her shoulders were lighter, but it is still there. It is so _new_ to verbalize these thoughts, and despite her amazing boyfriend’s acceptance thus far, she’s terrified she’ll say something that will put him off.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it,” Stan amends, giving her a sweet smile. “Just know, Kenny, boy, girl, neither—I don’t care. I love you so much.”

Her heart clenches, this feeling a pleasant one. Kenny wraps her arms around Stan’s waist, dragging him into a tight hug and a long, loving kiss. Stan lets out a soft hum through his nose, sliding his lips along her’s and ignoring the low temperature chilling their bones.

“If that didn’t make it clear, I love you so much.” Kenny reminds him, earning another quick kiss before neither could endure the cold.

Kenny’s spirit are insurmountably higher. As she laughs and dances with her boyfriend and their closest friends, a seed of hope and completion is planted within her. For the first time in a long time, every time her eyes meet Stan’s lovely blue ones, she feels fully herself.

_

Kenny makes it Stan’s house in record time after being summoned via text. He sensed the beginning of an argument between his mother and sister about politics, and though he is extremely proud of Karen’s fierce defense of her beliefs, he doesn’t think he can take the impending shouting.

The walk to Stan’s mom’s ranch is short, and he barely finishes his cigarette before tapping on the front door. A side glance at the car in the narrow driveway reveals that Sharon is home, which makes him grin. He loves Stan’s mom, and she loves him probably more than Stan. Kenny would never admit this (even though Stan expresses it incessantly), but he was genuinely excited and relieved when The Marshes got divorced. Not only did that mean Stan finally resided in South Park again, but it also meant he did not have to deal with Randy nearly as much. He was _uncomfortably_ supportive of their relationship and knew of Kenny’s weed habit and would always attempt to push his product on him.

“Hey, hon!” Sharon greets on opening the door to reveal her son’s partner. “Stanley told me you were coming,”

“Hey,” he replies, sending a sweet smile her way as he ducked inside, “How’s it goin’?”

“Oh, it’s goin’,” she huffs, pushing a few rouge bangs from her forehead with her wrist, “We’re finishing up dishes,”

Kenny traces behind her into the kitchen, where she finds Stan working on drying a wrack full of dishes by hand. He’s singing “Santeria” by Sublime as it plays from his phone, and Kenny instantly recognizes the playlist as one he created for him. He smiles, waiting for Stan to notice him before he says anything so he can hear him sing as long as possible. He’s not the best singer, but he loves to hear it anyway—it means he’s happy.

“You can be done once you finish these up, Stanley,” Sharon addresses him on bustling back to the metal basin beside him.

Stan’s eyes meet Kenny’s, and his face lights up even more, “Well, hey. That was quick.”

Kenny nods, “I know. I missed your cute face.”

They linger in the kitchen and chat with Sharon for way longer than they meant before Stan grasps Kenny’s hand and leads him to his bedroom down the hall. Entering the room is always a breath of fresh air; it’s his favorite place in the world. It smells like Stan and it is decorated with various representations of Stan’s personality and style. He also has a drawing Kenny made for him pinned up on the wall at his bedside, and it means the world to him that he proudly presents it in such a prominent location.

Stan ambles over to his desk, which is the most organized Kenny has ever seen it. He lifts a stack of what appears to be articles from on top of his laptop before spinning back around to face Kenny, “So, I have some stuff I wanted to look at and talk about with you.”

“Okay,” He’s a bit confused, but takes a seat on Stan’s mattress anyways. His boyfriend plops down at his side, scootching to the center of the bed and sitting pretzel-style.

“So, after we talked a couple weeks ago about your gender, I’ve been doing a lot of research and I talked to some people on Tumblr about it. Now, I don’t want to force labels on you, so please tell me if this doesn’t make sense or you want me to shut up, okay?”

Kenny sucks in a nervous breath, “Okay…”

Stan hands him a piece of paper, “Okay, so this one is kind of just outlining what it means to be gender non-conforming. So, basically, there’s the word _transgender_ and it is an umbrella term for two kind of categories. There’s _binary_ , which is, like, trans girls and guys, and then there’s _non-binary_ , which has a fuck ton.”

Kenny accepts the article Stan presents to him. His heartrate is slowing down as he listens to his boyfriend continue his spiel. “The one I think might relate most to you based off of what you told me is genderfluid. That’s when your gender can change. So, like, one day, week, or month, you identify as a man, and the next you identify as a woman. And, in your case, most of the time you identify as genderless. Also, this one person I talked to on Tumblr said that they use _they-them_ pronouns because it’s more gender-neutral and makes them feel more comfortable because they can’t ever predict when they’re going to feel more feminine or masculine on any given day.”

There’s a long pause, Kenny taking his time to absorb all of this completely new and extremely fitting information. He shuffles through papers describing all of these concepts that Stan has regurgitated, thinking he probably is genderfluid, but only really caring about how much it meant that Stan took the time to put all of this together. There were dozens of highlighted lines all throughout the articles, and notes in Stan’s handwriting crammed into the margins. His heart swells, his eyes water, and his lips quiver.

“I’m really sorry if I just overwhelmed the fuck out of you,” Stan mutters sheepishly, insecure from the silence from his partner. “I’ve just been thinking about it a lot…”

Kenny lifts his face toward Stan, tears now free-falling down his freckled cheeks. Stan’s stomach churns, but he is quickly reassured by Kenny’s beautiful, dimpled grin stretching his lips. His voice is shaky when he finally says, “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.”

The dark-haired boy’s expression softens. He places a comforting hand on Kenny’s knee, “I’d do anything for you, Kenny.”

“Fuck, dude,” Kenny huffs, throwing himself at Stan, hugging him tightly and hiding his face in the crook of his neck while a bout of relieved, happy sobs rack his body. He hasn’t cried in a very long time. It feels almost as soul-cleansing as breathing in Stan’s scent while he rubs his back. “I’m gonna fuckin’ marry you, Marsh.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Stan chuckles, giving him a squeeze.

Once Kenny has composed himself, he withdraws from the embrace and swipes the moisture from beneath his eyes. “This means everything to me, Stan… I’m definitely going to look through all of this, but this whole _genderfluid_ thing seems pretty perfect.”

Stan perks up at this, feeling very proud for analyzing the situation accurately. “Take your time! You should try talking to people on Tumblr, also!”

“It would be kinda nice to talk about it to someone who gets it. But talking about it to you right now has been… Just everything.” Kenny grabs Stan’s hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing kisses to his knuckles. “You’re everything.”

“You’re my everything,” Stan tells him, blush invading his pale cheeks. He tugs on Kenny’s arm, encouraging him to come closer.

Kenny accepts the invitation and presses Stan against the mattress, hovering over him and forcing himself between his legs. He kisses him hard, attempting to display every ounce of the endless love and admiration he has for the boy. Stan’s arms curl around his neck, sensing all of this emotion, urging Kenny to remain there in that moment of time with him.

The rest of the night is spent wrapped up in one another, discussing the next steps in Kenny discovering his identity, and incessant reminders of how much they love and care for one another.


End file.
